


Drumming Up Feelings

by jadehqknb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Confession, First Kiss, Love songs, M/M, Sappy, atsumu is blind (or deaf) to bokuto's advances, band manager kuroo, bass player meian, but he's crushing hard, drummer atsumu, lead guitarist bokuto, rhythm guitar hinata, sakusa on keyboards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 11:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30138840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadehqknb/pseuds/jadehqknb
Summary: For anyone wondering: I wrote the lyrics for this piece. 😊 🎶
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26
Collections: BokuAtsu Week 2021





	Drumming Up Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering: I wrote the lyrics for this piece. 😊 🎶

From behind the curtain, Atsumu can hear the screaming of the crowd. His heart pounds and he spins the stick in his hands, taking a deep breath. He casts a glance at the keyboards where Sakusa stands, the lights of his jackal mask turned on, casting a faint glow onto the keys. 

Atsumu’s eyes shift forward, landing on Hinata, then Meian and finally, Bokuto. 

His heart pounds faster. He shouldn’t be so affected by the man, not after their years together touring the world. But Bokuto’s magnetism draws everyone in and Atsumu is as likely to resist him as a moth to a flame. 

“Ok fellas. We’re going in three… two… one!”

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen! Put your hands together for The Black Jackals!!” Kuroo screams into his microphone from backstage. He definitely is the picture of a hands on manager, but even Atsumu can’t complain. If he hadn’t busted his ass like he did at the beginning of this journey, they definitely wouldn’t have come this far. 

The crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the curtain falls and flames shoot from the throwers either side of the stage. Spotlights swirl in colors around them, highlighting each of them for brief moments. 

“Hey, hey, hey! How’s everybody doin’ tonight?” Bokuto shouts into his mic. 

More cheering, the excitement ramping up. 

“Gimme, gimme, gimme that—“ 

“BOKUTO BEAM!” 

Bokuto hits his stance, a spotlight hitting only on him for a split second before the overhead lights come to life, revealing the crowd doing it right back to him. 

Atsumu counts them off for their first song. 

Bam, bam, bam, bam!

Guitar strings are struck, bass strings are plucked and Sakusa hits his first chord. 

Hinata and Bokuto lean back to back, rhythm and lead playing off each other as Atsumu keeps the beat. Meian sways side to side, long hair swinging as he bobs his head to the beat. 

> _ You keep me comin’, comin’ back for more _
> 
> _ I can’t stop starin’, starin’ at the door _
> 
> _ Lift my fist and knock the wood _
> 
> _ Heart in my throat, hoping you come _
> 
> _ Answer, answer, answer me now _
> 
> _ From the first time I saw you  _
> 
> _ I knew it was fate _
> 
> _ I was caught up, caught up,  _
> 
> _ Caught up in your wake _
> 
> _ Can you hear me?  _
> 
> _ Can you see me? _
> 
> _ Am I ever in your thoughts? _
> 
> _ Do you want me? _
> 
> _ You can have me _
> 
> _ All you have to do is ask _

Bokuto walks across the stage as he plays, singing his heart out like he does every time. His eyes are bright, his smile shining and his voice… his voice is a perfect blend of rasp and soul, of screaming and sultry. 

It gets Atsumu every time. 

> _ You’re such a magic maker, a mystery to me _
> 
> _ I wish that you would trust me _
> 
> _ Let me in to your embrace _
> 
> _ I hate the distance between us _
> 
> _ Even when we stand so close _
> 
> _ I wish that you would trust me _
> 
> _ Trust me the most _
> 
> _ Can you hear me? _
> 
> _ Can you see me? _
> 
> _ Am I ever in your thoughts? _
> 
> _ Do you want me? _
> 
> _ You can have me _
> 
> _ All you have to do is ask _

The breakdown riff begins and Bokuto’s fingers fly over the strings. Next to him Hinata bobs and weaves, dancing as he shreds on his guitar. Atsumu’s eyes widen when he spies Bokuto rushing the stage edge, spinning around and falling backwards… right into the mass of humanity that scream sings along with him as the crowd surfs him. 

> _ Can you hear me? _
> 
> _ Can you see you? _
> 
> _ Am I ever in your thoughts? _
> 
> _ Do you want me? _
> 
> _ You can have me _
> 
> _ All you have to do is ask _

“Get him out of there!” Atsumu shouts into his mouthpiece. 

“We’re on it, chill out!” Kuroo shouts back. 

Atsumu keeps playing but he keeps his eyes on Bokuto, nervous that the frenzied fans are going to hurt him. After what feels like too long, Atsumu catches sight of Sawamura, Kamasaki and Iwaizumi making their way to where Bokuto is being thrust up and down by rabid fans. 

“Hey, hey, hey now, I gotta stay decent guys!” Bokuto shouts and Atsumu’s blood boils as he watches the security guards helping him down but his t-shirt is ripped and torn from his body. Without thought, he chucks a stick towards the crowd, trying to get them to back off. He pulls a replacement from his cargo pant leg pocket, not missing a beat, but the sequence of events only adds fuel to the fire when a fan manages to catch the damn thing like a souvenir. 

By the time Bokuto makes it back on stage, he’s shirtless, sweat pouring into the crevices of his muscles and Atsumu’s mouth runs dry. It’s not the first time he’s seen Bokuto in such a state, but it never ceases to affect him. 

“Don’t lose focus over a well-defined back,” Sakusa mutters into Atsumu’s earpiece. 

“Fuck off,” Atsumu snaps back. 

Bokuto is laughing, picking back up the notes. “Y’all are crazy,” he shouts and the crowd just gets louder. 

Undeterred, Bokuto spins around, his eyes locking with Atsumu and the suddenness of having all his focus on him makes Atsumu really almost lose the beat.

> _ I hate the distance between us  _
> 
> _ Even when we stand so close _
> 
> _ I wish that you would trust me _
> 
> _ Trust me the most _

He steps up onto Atsumu’s platform, his back fully to the crowd, his eyes zeroed in on Atsumu’s face. 

> _ Can you hear me? _
> 
> _ Can you see me? _
> 
> _ Am I ever in your thoughts? _
> 
> _ Do you want me? _
> 
> _ You can have me _
> 
> _ All you have to do is ask _

A nd then he jumps, spinning mid-air and hitting the last cord with a dramatic flourish as he lands as only Bokuto can. 

Leaving Atsumu breathless in his wake.

* * *

At the conclusion of the set, the crowd had been going wild, begging for an encore which The Black Jackals were all too happy to give. 

Well, Bokuto and Hinata were so the rest of them just went along with it.

By the time they were done with meet and greets and autograph signings it was already past midnight. 

Atsumu looks out the window of their tour bus, yawning, his breath fogging the glass. He should be sleeping like the rest of the guys but every time he closes his eyes Bokuto’s face from tonight enters his dreams. Only instead of turning away from him to end the song, he leans closer over the drums and plants a kiss to Atsumu’s lips.

He doesn’t want to entertain the thought too much.

“Hey, what’re you still doin’ up?”

Speaking of the angel, Bokuto appears in the doorway. Atsumu glances at him in the reflection of the glass. He’s still shirtless, bathed in fleeting flashes of rapidly passed streetlights.

“Could ask you the same thing,” Atsumu counters but there’s no heat in his voice. It sounds flat, like a chord hit wrong. 

Instead of turning around, Bokuto plops into the bench seat across the table from Atsumu. He lets out a long breath as he pillows his head on crossed arms on the table. His hair is loose and wavy, no product after his shower and he smells fresh and clean. Atsumu’s fingers twitch with the desire to run through those wild tresses. It’s only times like these, in the lateness and seclusion of their private quarters that Bokuto leaves his hair all natural. 

“It was a good show tonight,” Bokuto says through a yawn, eyes still trained on the passing scenery. 

“Yeah,” Atsumu agrees quietly because it’s the truth. They always deliver for their fans, especially Bokuto. . He yawns again, eyelids getting heavier but now that Bokuto’s here, he can’t bring himself to leave. 

It’s rather pathetic really. He spends practically all day, every day with the guy, but they’re almost always surrounded, too. Managers, hair and makeup, photographer, fans, the rest of the band, the only time they’re alone is when they’re sleeping. If they sleep. Like they both should be doing right now, but they’re sitting here like idiots watching the world literally pass by in a blur. 

A soft snore pulls his attention away from the window to where Bokuto’s head is still resting on his ridiculously buff arms but his eyes are closed, his breathing even and deep and he looks literally like an angel sleeping. Some of his bangs flutter with each exhale of breath and Atsumu reaches forward without thinking, brushing it away. 

Bokuto hums and it sounds happy, pushing his face closer to Atsumu’s hand. Startled, Atsumu pulls away, blushing wildly when Bokuto asks sleepily, “Why’d you stop Tsum-Tsum?”

“You ain’t mad someone’s touchin’ ya while ya sleep?” Atsumu asks. 

“Not if it’s you,” Bokuto replies through another yawn. 

Atsumu’s brain, instead of screeching to a halt, goes into overdrive. How is he supposed to take something like that? Is it because it’s just, like, just him,  _ Atsumu _ , or is it because they’re bandmates and any bandmate automatically gets hair touching privileges? Sure, they all touch each other (not in a weird way and not Oomi-kun, because, well, it’s Oomi-kun) but they’re close. They hug and high five and give noogies, they’re  _ friends _ . 

But this  _ feels _ different. Maybe it’s the lateness of the hour or the quiet hum of the bus and the road beneath its tires or the low light and the shadows shifting as they drive along but this feels intimate. It feels like Bokuto is telling Atsumu something significant but Atsumu is either too tired or too stupid (his brother’s voices comes into his head that it’s most certainly the latter). 

During Atsumu’s internal freak out, Bokuto leans up in his seat, stretching those well defined muscles and yawns yet again. He runs a hand through his hair to pull it out of his eyes and offers a sleepy smile. There’s still a little crust of eyeliner stuck in the corner of Bokuto’s eye, but he looks so soft and beautiful. Because Bokuto doesn’t need makeup and designer threads or costumes to look perfect, he just  _ is _ , and Atsumu  _ really _ needs to get a grip before he does something stupid like blurt any or all of this out into the world for it to manifest into truth. 

“Well, I’m going to try to get some shut eye,” Bokuto says, sliding slowly out of his seat. He stands next to Atsumu’s bench. “You comin’?” 

“In a bit,” Atsumu assures, but he knows better. He won’t be able to sleep at all now, not with his mind running like crazy. 

“Tsum… we’re ok, right?” Bokuto asks. 

Surprised at the random question, Atsumu nods his head. “Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” 

Bokuto shrugs. “I dunno. You just seemed off after the set or like maybe you were mad at me or something. I know ya don’t like it when I do the stage dives, but they’re really fun and the crowd loves’em.” He smiles again but this time it’s not meeting his eyes. “I just wanna make sure we’re cool.” 

“We’re cool, Bo. I just worry, ya know? People are crazy, especially when they get in a mass like that and I just don’t want to see ya get hurt. What would we do without our main front man, right?” 

Bokuto nods, his shoulders relaxing. “Right. Good. Ok.” He claps a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder giving in a firm squeeze. “Thanks for lookin’ out for me. Goodnight. Or, good morning, I guess.” He chuckles as he moves away, opening and stepping through the sliding door to the sleeping quarters. Giving a little wave, he closes it quietly, leaving Atsumu alone to watch the world through glass, his heart in a whirl. 

* * *

It’s a rare day off for the band and Atsumu is napping when his phone rings. Groaning, he picks it up, answering the call without looking at the caller. 

A fatal mistake for his eardrum. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Tsum-Tsum! What’re you doin’ right now?” 

“I  _ was _ sleeping Bo. What the hell do you want?” 

Atsumu is not the friendliest on a good day, but add in waking him from a good sleep and he’s extra grouchy. 

“Oh! Sorry! Um, I guess we can talk later—”

“I’m already awake, Bokuto, what do ya want?” 

There’s a pause and then Bokuto is off again, talking fast. “Well, I know it’s our day off and we’re supposed to be resting but I got this song that popped in my head and I’m too excited not to work on it and I wanted to get your opinion on it!” 

Atsumu smacks a hand over his eyes, a low groan burning his throat. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to work on a song today. But Bokuto has never failed to pull him into whatever nonsense or brilliance he has up his sleeve and so he finds himself saying, “Yeah, fine, ok. Bring coffee.” He hangs up as Bokuto is profusely thanking him. 

Rolling out of bed, Atsumu stumbles to the shower, rinsing quickly before stumbling around his small studio apartment, tossing junk into whatever draw or obscure corner of a closet or cabinet he can find. He should probably do a deep clean before they head out on the road again. He would hire a maid but he’s too paranoid about crazy fans. 

Hinata learned that the hard way. 

He knows he needn’t bother, Bokuto isn’t going to care about his takeout containers or his dirty socks, but Atsumu cares despite all his attempts not to. 

He’s just pulled a shirt on when there’s a knock at the door and he smiles to himself. Bokuto must have already been in or near his neighborhood to have gotten here so fast. Walking to the door, he opens it, finding Bokuto with his acoustic soft case strapped to his back and two coffees in hand. Bright eyes and an even brighter smile greet Atsumu. 

“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto exclaims as if they hadn’t just spoken on the phone fifteen minutes ago or seen each other yesterday afternoon. He thrusts a coffee forward into Atsumu’s hand. “One tall mocha chocolate chip with extra whip cream, just how ya like it!”

Atsumu should not be as pleased as he is that Bokuto remembers his favorite drink from the coffee shop located just around the corner from the station near his place but he is and he smiles, forgetting he’s supposed to be annoyed. 

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside to allow Bokuto entry. 

“Thanks for letting me come by! I couldn’t wait for you to hear this!” 

Distantly, Atsumu wonders why Bokuto didn’t wait to show it to all of them together as per usual but he’s hard pressed to continue questioning why Bokuto wants him to be the exclusive first to hear this new idea. 

Sipping his drink (they blended it  _ perfectly _ as usual) he takes a seat on the small loveseat he managed to fit into the corner of the room. Bokuto pulls over the spare stool Atsumu keeps for when he’s working on beats with his electric set and extracts his guitar from its case. 

“Ok, it’s a bit different than our normal stuff, but the melody hit me and just wouldn’t let go so I had ta try it,” Bokuto says as he tunes the guitar. It’s already tuned, but he does it anyway, fetituous in his care. Oomi-kun would approve. 

“Right, right, just show me,” Atsumu says through a soft laugh. 

Bokuto strums the strings a few times, nodding once in satisfaction that all is tight, tuned and ready to go. Then he begins to play. 

The melody definitely is different. It’s soft, almost romantic, and Atsumu finds himself wanting to sway with it. 

Bokuto starts to sing, his voice low, nothing like the loud exclamations and screams of their hard hitting stuff.

> _ There’s something that I need to say _
> 
> _ Can’t keep it hidden, hidden away _
> 
> _ I wish with all my heart that it would die _
> 
> _ It’s not fair, but there’s no mistake _
> 
> _ I’ve questioned it til I’m blue in the face _
> 
> _ It’s a losing battle, I’ve already lost the war. _
> 
> _ You steal my breath, you take my thoughts _
> 
> _ You captivate all my attention _
> 
> _ I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, bound up in all this tension _
> 
> _ I just need to be released _
> 
> _ Break the chains, set me free _
> 
> _ But I can’t, don’t you see? _
> 
> _ I’d stay even if the cage door opened _
> 
> _ I just want to stay in your presence _
> 
> _ You’re a menace to my soul  _
> 
> _ But I’d love to call you mine _
> 
> _ Wreaking havoc with you by my side _
> 
> _ Open your eyes, take off the blinders _
> 
> _ If you would seek, I’m sure you would find that _
> 
> _ I’ve been yours this entire time _
> 
> _ I give you my breath, consume all my thoughts _
> 
> _ Captivate me, you won’t break me _
> 
> _ I know you better than that _
> 
> _ I don’t want to be released _
> 
> _ Fasten the chains, keep me in place _
> 
> _ Keep me in place with you _

The music fades away and Atsumu is left staring with wide eyes at Bokuto who just stares right back. He sets down his guitar, moving the short distance across the room to crouch before Atsumu. Removing the coffee from his hand and setting it on the side table, Bokuto reaches up to brush away tears Atsumu doesn't even realize he’s crying. 

Atsumu knows he should be speaking, should be saying anything but he can’t form words. He can barely breathe. The melody, the lyrics, the passion, the  _ love _ . Everything poured into that song were pieces of Bokuto… for him. 

“Do you get it now?” Bokuto asks with a soft smile. “I didn’t know how else to say what I needed to. And I hope ya don’t hate me, Atsumu, but I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. And if you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine. But I had to tell you.” 

“I… oh wow,” Atsumu finally sighs, burying his face in his hands. He can see it now, the moments of Bokuto reaching out—literally—the subtle hints and testing the waters but Atsumu was always so concerned with fucking up the band dynamic he didn’t see them (or maybe he ignored them, he’s not sure anymore). 

All he is sure of now is half the songs Bokuto wrote lyrics for on their last album are about Atsumu and he’s equal parts thrilled and embarrassed. 

Bokuto’s love letter to him went out for all the world to see and it flew right over Atsumu’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Bokuto, I’m sorry I didn’t see it, or  _ hear it _ , before now.” He lifts his head and finds Bokuto still close and doesn’t hesitate leaning forward, lips pressing to Bokuto’s. 

The next thing he knows, he’s on his back with Bokuto over him, mouth sealed to his own, tongues dancing and fingers gripping hair and clothes and flesh. Bokuto feels and tastes like fire, burning through all of Atsumu’s doubts without another word. He’s already said them all—or sang them he supposes. All that’s left now is to confirm them with action. 

“I love you,” Bokuto rasps into his ear, hand pushing under Atsumu’s shirt to lay his palm against his rapidly beating heart. 

“I love you, too,” Atsumu replies. 

Well, maybe there were a few more words to say. 


End file.
